Toxic Pollution

How fracking's methane leaks aggravate climate change

I’ve seen them more times than I can remember, but the shock never fades: ten-foot-high flames burning off gas at the BP processing plant in Whiting, Indiana. The facility is close to where I grew up, so we’ve had a lot of time to marvel at the flare stacks. My sister thought they were volcanoes when she was little and, in my family, the name has stuck. Converting waste methane to carbon dioxide (CO2) through flaring is common practice in oil and gas production. This makes “volcanoes” a familiar feature of drilling and hydraulic fracturing, or fracking, fields. The sight of stacks spewing CO2 directly into the air is both visually striking and enraging: a visual metaphor for a world run on extractive, dirty energy. And yet, when it comes to fracking, the volcanoes and their carbon emissions aren’t even the biggest problem. That which is most dangerous is often hardest to see—invisible, in this case. Fracking’s worst air pollution actually occurs through methane leaks. Methane is a greenhouse gas whose global warming potential is 86 times greater than carbon dioxide over a 20-year period, according to the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. It leaks stealthily at every point in the gas supply chain into our atmosphere, undetectable without advanced equipment and frequent tests. According to NASA, the oil and gas industry is responsible for the global rise in methane emissions, beating even landfills and dairy production. Many of these emissions come from leaking pipes attached to fracked gas wells. While many of fracking’s damages—the contamination of water tables, an increase in man-made earthquakes—are well documented, fracking’s air pollution is a more difficult battle to fight. There are no convenient visuals of tap water set on fire or flattened homes. But the fact that we can’t see methane leaking into the air doesn’t make its impact any less intense: diffuse toxic particles grip the throat like so many invisible hands; methane causes nosebleeds and asthma; gas leaks squeeze the brain into dizzying headaches and seizures; toxic additives cause babies to be born prematurely with low birth weight and life-threatening defects. Leaking methane is also of particular concern when it comes to climate change. When just less than 2 percent of a pipeline’s total carried methane leaks into the air, the gas loses its supposed “cleaner” climate advantage over even coal. Recent studies show that U.S. fracking fields leak at tremendously uneven rates, some up to a whopping 12 percent. In other words, only a small number of wells are responsible for an extreme amount of contamination. But this also means that we already have part of the solution: fixing leaks at these super-polluting fields would be a huge boon for climate regulation.   Leak detention and repair requires frequent and careful oversight, but it is also cost-effective, and often actually pays for itself. Gas companies can patrol their own distribution lines, looking for and repairing leaks. Pneumatic pipeline controllers can be replaced with better, low-bleed controllers. This extra care, however, is exactly what fracking’s proponents fight against: the gas industry in the United States has long denied and diminished the severity of leaking pipelines. Like the greenhouse gas pollution that causes it, climate change is a slow-paced disaster. It is a long, diffuse emergency that, in a sound-byte world, isn’t dramatic enough for short-term elections and news cycles, and usually isn’t brought up until it’s too late. Alternatives to fracking But times are changing. And the solution to a warming world isn’t just about fixing leaks. We can’t just mitigate a life-threatening system; we have to end it. Instead of perpetuating our dependence on gas, we must invest in a just transition and move into economically sustainable forms of energy, like solar and wind. Gas delivery systems and their maintenance are as expensive as they are toxic, and will soon become obsolete. We must fight for better regulation of our present system, while building up alternatives for a better tomorrow. This is particularly important in parts of the world that are only now starting to embrace fracking. While somewhat ubiquitous in the global North, fracking has only just begun in Latin America, where roughly 5,000 wells have popped up in the past few years. Frontline communities and human rights defenders from across the Americas have fought hard to win bans or restrictions on fracking. They urge that their nations not fall for fracking’s trap—harms would be amplified by lax regulation and further aggravate climate change. In October they testified before the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights on the harm fracking has caused to communities across Latin America. Liliana Ávila, a senior attorney at AIDA, explained that fracking-induced pollution impacts basic human rights, and that environmental defenders often face extreme violence when protecting their territories from the gas industry. Part of the battle for a global and just transition towards a sustainable, equitable energy economy is being able to recognize those harms that are harder to see—including those that are invisible at first. It’s the quiet harms that unfold over long time spans that are catching up to us now.  

Mine tailings dams: a history of failures

Once again, tragedy looms over Brazil. Last Friday, for the second time in less than four years, a tailings dam broke in the State of Minas Gerais—this time in the municipality of Brumadinho—leaving catastrophic human and environmental damage in its wake. Once again, the losses are incalculable. We’re faced with disappearances and death. We see the same, disconcerting images: survivors evacuated by helicopter; trees, animals, and homes covered in toxic sludge; a swollen river carrying mining waste downstream. Once again, nature and society have been damaged, torn apart. As if in an endless loop, the tragedy has repeated in Minas Gerais. Five similar incidents, at least of which there is evidence, occurred in 1986, 2001, 2007, 2014, and 2015. The tragedy in November 2015 in the city of Mariana is considered the worst environmental disaster in the history of Brazil. It destroyed the town of Bento Rodrigues and contaminated the Doce River basin, carrying toxic sludge all the way to the Atlantic Ocean. A tragic cycle Far from isolated events, the failures of mine tailings dams have become a common occurrence, and statistics suggest we can expect many more in the future. Like any infrastructure work, a dam has a certain useful life—a period of operation with a firm beginning and end. That period is based on the dam having adequate design, execution, and maintenance, something that often does not occur. Thanks to the World Information Service on Energy’s Uranium Project, we know that over the last 30 years there have been 73 accidents or incidents involving mine tailings dams worldwide. The United States (17), China (8) and the Philippines (7) lead the list of affected countries. The project’s database offers an account of the main accidents and indicators including breakdowns, overshoots, collapses, partial failures, and lining ruptures. These figures should lead us to reflect on large-scale mining, particularly metal mining, which requires these types of dams and impoundments. Instead of continuing to build mines, wouldn’t it be better to concentrate our efforts on recovering and reusing the metal we discard? When will we transition to a circular economy that avoids such catastrophes? How many more disasters can our ecosystems and our human populations endure? Quite often, affected communities do not have objective or sufficient information about the benefits and harms of the mining projects proposed near their homes. Breaking that information gap is urgent. At AIDA we contribute to this task by providing useful information about the potential harms of mining, and using it to strengthen legal actions undertaken to protect people and the environment. It’s urgent that the governmental, non-governmental and private sectors do whatever is necessary to avoid more tragedies like those we’ve seen in Brazil. They must make a conscious decision to put the value of people and nature above profit. For more information, consult the database of major tailings dam failures: http://www.wise-uranium.org/mdaf.html   73 tailings dams have failed over the last 30 years, wreaking havoc on the environment and affected communities: https://t.co/G6xZibNIAk How many more avoidable disasters can we endure? #MinasGerais #BrumadinhoSOS #ValeAssassina #mining pic.twitter.com/ceuNTUUpkL — AIDA Americas (@AIDAorg) January 28, 2019

Mining Arc threatens majestic lands of Southern Venezuela

For decades, one of the greatest socio-ecological tragedies in Latin America has been developing in Venezuela. Small-scale gold mining is inflicting irreversible damage to one of the continent’s most biodiverse natural areas. It’s happening South of the Orinoco River, amidst majestic waterfalls, impressive mesas, and long-established indigenous communities. Despite its major impacts on the states of Amazonas and Bolívar, mining there has advanced rather silently. Up until a few years ago, not many researchers were even paying attention. The situation changed in 2011, when then-President Hugo Chavez announced the creation of the Orinoco Mining Arc National Strategic Development Zone, a project finalized five years later through a presidential decree. Photo: Bram Ebus / Infoamazonía.   Mining’s large-scale damages The Orinoco Mining Arc involves permitting undefined mining activities in 111,843 square kilometers of territory—an area larger than Guatemala and almost twice the size of the Orinoco Oil Belt. Its implementation has legitimized and exacerbated the damages of small-scale mining, chief among them water pollution, deforestation and the destruction of fertile soils. The project also aims to develop large-scale mining in this mega-diverse region. Now, independent researchers like Carlos Eduardo Pacheco and others, hailing from organizations such as the Venezuelan Society of Ecology and Provita, warn of the huge damages that may occur due to the nation’s lack of environmental regulation. Thanks to their studies, additional research, and an analysis of satellite images, we know that: in the area around the Mining Arc there exist at least five or six large pockets of deforestation, and hundreds of smaller ones; the Caroní and Ikabarú river basins are being destroyed; and damages have reached Caura and Canaima National Parks, as well as the territories of the Pemón, Yekuana, Akawayo and Yanomami indigenous people, among others. The consequences, the researchers warn, are not only ecological; they are social as well. There has been a mass exodus from major cities, people fleeing poverty and heading to the Mining Arc to seek economic opportunity. Photo: Bram Ebus / Infoamazonía.   In addition, mining activity has lead to multiple reports of human trafficking, prostitution, drug trafficking, extortion, murder, and the presence of both paramilitary groups and guerillas from Colombia. Many of the mining projects in the zone are under the control of a mafia known as “Pranato Minero,” whose leaders are relatively unknown. Increased mining has also caused serious harms to the health of informal miners and their families due to the use of mercury. Statistics from the Ministry of People’s Power for Health demonstrate a strong increase in mortality—at least 500 percent between 2002 and 2013 in municipalities close to the Arc, including Sifontes, El Callao, Cedeño and Roscio. And large-scale transnational mining hasn’t been left out of the picture. Even Canadian companies that recently sued Venezuela for controversies related to their investments have returned as partners in the mining exploitation of Orinoco. Raising awareness of Orinoco In all this development, where is the social and environmental responsibility? There seems to be no place for accountability in Venezuela, a nation with non-existent institutions and inapplicable laws. We must to ask what we can do, as members of civil society, in the face of this latest chronicle of deforestation, mercury contamination, and outright destruction of the natural world of Southern Venezuela. At AIDA, we’re doing what we can by providing technical and scientific support to the Venezuelan organizations studying the Mining Arc’s development. By supporting them, we’re working to raise awareness of the issue and put one of the most serious social and environmental attacks in the region in the public eye.    

Leydy Pech, the guardian of the bees

“They’re part of my very being,” Leydy Araceli Pech Martin says of her bees. She feeds them pumpkin candy, and she identifies with them. Seeing how they organize and work together to produce honey reaffirms her confidence in collective action. In her native town of Ich Eq, a name that in Maya means “Star Eye,” families live in the same way: united and supporting each other. Of all the objectives that Leydy shares with her community, perhaps the most vital is the defense of their territory and traditional ways of life—threatened now by growing deforestation and the toxic contamination of industrial agriculture. The expansion of soy cultivation in Leydy’s town—located in the municipality of Hopelchén, in the Mexican State of Campeche—is killing large areas of tropical forest and indiscriminately spreading toxic pesticides through the land and water. It is harmful to both human health and the natural environment, particularly those ecosystems that depend on bees and, thus, beekeepers. Knocking down obstacles With a sweet look and a soft voice, Leydy is an agile woman. She does many things in a day, dividing her time between beekeeping, housework, caring for her mother and uncle, and keeping an eye on her son Diego Alberto, 17. She also manages the shop of Koolel-Kab (“women who work with bees”), an organization she founded with other women from Hopelchén in 1995. Together they breed and work for the preservation of melipona beecheii, a wild bee species that has been domesticated by the Maya people for hundred of years.  Using what the bees produce, the women make and sell honeys, soaps and creams in the organization’s store.  For Leydy, dedicating herself to beekeeping, a trade she learned from grandfather, which in the area is done mostly by men, has not been easy. She’s had to break down barriers. “We live in a world where only men have been able to speak and make decisions,” Leydy explained. “I’ve broken with that and they’ve questioned me.” At the beginning, the community underestimated the women’s potential. “They told us we wouldn’t achieve anything,” she said. “But little by little we demonstrated our abilities. The men saw the results of our work and publically recognized that the organization is an example of struggle, and success.” The women of Koolel-Kab work for the recognition of and respect for indigenous rights in the region. Leydy says their struggle began when they realized that other people were making decisions about the territory and natural resources of their town, about job opportunities and quality of life for their youngest members. Mennonites and industrial agribusiness have been cultivating genetically modified soybeans in Hopelchén, leading to mass deforestation and public health risks. The Mexican government authorized the cultivation without consulting affected communities. Although Mexico’s Supreme Court has recognized this human rights violation, the illegal planting of GMO soy has not stopped and the sowing of traditional soy has expanded. In addition, the aerial fumigation of crops is causing a harmful mixture of chemicals to reach houses, water sources, and the flowers the bees rely on. “I cannot sit idly by when I know what is happening,” explained Leydy, with the firmness that characterizes her. “It has become my responsibility. Not doing anything would be like betraying my own identity.” Leydy is motivated by the search for justice. Her organization of Maya women is part of the Collective of Maya Communities of los Chenes, which has presented national and international legal actions to stop the damages of agroindustry. AIDA, together with partner organizations, supports their efforts and has taken the case, on behalf of the communities, before the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights. The strength of unity Leydy is convinced that the strength of the Collective is its unity. Those in the Collective work for the needs of their own communities, but are also in the process of seeing themselves as one—something that applies not only to the people of Campeche, but also to those of the nearby States of Yucatan and Quintana Roo. “The Maya people are many, and everything that we’ve achieved is not for only one person, it is for all.” Leydy shares her leadership and her natural ability for teamwork. Her son, Diego Alberto, is part of that effort. “He’s happy, he understands a lot about bees and has his own projects,” she says.   Like Diego Albert, other young members of Leydy’s family are choosing to dedicate themselves to beekeeping. “That tells me I’m doing something right,” she says, proudly.    

Calling on Chile to stop salmon industry’s impact on Patagonia

AIDA alerted six international treaties to the damages the salmon industry is causing to Chilean Patagonia, and requested that they visit the Magallanes region to investigate the impacts and urge the Chilean government to protect the region. Santiago, Chile. In an Urgent Alert to international authorities, the Interamerican Association of Environmental Defense (AIDA) requested that experts visit the Magallanes region of Chilean Patagonia—where the expansion of the salmon industry is causing serious environmental damage—and asked them to urge the government to adopt appropriate measures to address them. “These six treaties were signed and ratified by Chile to protect its natural wealth, including the endemic species of the Magallanes region,” said Florencia Ortuzar, AIDA attorney. “The government is violating these agreements by failing to prevent the salmon industry from damaging the country’s marine environments.” The document details the principal damages caused by the salmon farms in Magallanes, among them: contamination of the seabed from large amounts of fish feces, excess chemical waste, and the over-saturation of waters with fish, all of which create oxygen-free dead zones where marine life cannot survive. The alert was sent to authorities in charge of the Convention on Biological Diversity, the Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, the International Whaling Commission, the Inter-American Convention for the Protection and Conservation of Sea Turtles, the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, and the Antarctic Treaty. The situation was also reported to the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations and the World Health Organization. The Magallanes region is home to many protected species, including the blue whale, the sperm whale, the Magellanic penguin, the elephant seal, the leatherback turtle, the Southern dolphin and the Chilean dolphin. A remote and pristine area, Magallanes is poorly studied and it is thus virtually impossible to understand the consequences of the industry’s current and potential impacts. “More than half the farms operating in Magallanes are causing a total or partial lack of oxygen in the waters,” explained Ortuzar. “This demonstrates that the salmon concessions are being granted without the scientific support needed to guarantee they won’t cause environmental damage.” Another problem raised in the alert is the excessive use of antibiotics in Chilean salmon farms—higher than that of any other salmon-producing nation. This excessive use provokes antimicrobial resistance in humans, a problem that has been recognized by the World Health Organization as a serious threat to global public health. In the alert, AIDA requested the international authorities: support the Chilean State in the investigation of the salmon industry’s real and potential impacts on Patagonia; remind Chile of its obligations under the treaties; investigate the damage described; and, when needed, request the application of sanctions and the suspension or cancellation of concessions in Magallanes. Consult the Urgent Alert. Find more information on the case here.             press contact Victor Quintanilla (Mexico), AIDA, [email protected], +521 5570522107  

We all deserve to breathe clean air

I was born and raised in Bogota, Colombia’s bustling capital city. When I was a child, I grew accustomed to the chaos of the streets—thousands of cars and buses spewing black smoke into the air, the endless honking of horns. It was normal to see massive smokestacks and smell bad odors. I thought all cities were that way, and that nature and clean air only existed in places far from home. I was used to having health problems: headaches, rashes, eye and throat irritation, coughs and hay fever. I never questioned why my sisters and I were constantly fighting these “environmental allergies.” Pollution even prevented me from enjoying the outdoors. I couldn’t easily walk or ride my bike, for example, because my lungs struggled from the soot emitted by passing trucks and buses. There were days I had to leave my house wearing a mask, and times when we were forbidden from playing outside due to the pollution. Air pollution: a silent killer As an adult, I realized that environmental allergies are not the norm. Often, they are caused by constantly breathing in black carbon, ozone, sulfur dioxide and other pollutants that cars, buses and factories emit into the atmosphere each day. I realized that air pollution is a serious threat to quality of life and to a person’s health, especially among the most vulnerable, like our children and the elderly. According to the World Health Organization, millions of people die each year from illnesses related to air pollution. In Latin America, it is the number one environmental health risk, and causes more than 150,000 premature deaths per year. Cities like Mexico City, Monterrey (Mexico), Cochabamba (Bolivia), Santiago de Chile, Lima (Peru), Medellin (Colombia), San Salvador (El Salvador) and Bogota have the highest levels of air pollution in the region. When cities are allowed to expand without regulation, population skyrockets—and with it, so do the number of cars and trucks and factories. I worry about the future of my family in that scenario. I don’t want the air we breathe to negatively impact our health. My husband, who is not from Bogota, moved there to be with me. One year later, he was diagnosed with asthma. When my daughter was just two months old, she had a respiratory infection that put her in intensive care for several days. The cause of both their illnesses: the city’s poor air quality.   Stopping the contamination The majority of the world’s population lives in cities. And while we can’t expect our cities to be pristine, natural ecosystems, they should provide people with the minimal conditions they need to lead dignified, healthy lives. That’s why AIDA works to improve air quality in Latin America, advocating for the protection of our children and other populations highly vulnerable to atmospheric contamination. We are raising awareness among policy makers about the importance of regulating short-lived climate pollutants (SLCPs), which stay in the atmosphere for a relatively short period of time. Unlike carbon dioxide, which can stay in the atmosphere for centuries, SLCPs remain in the air from a few days to a few decades. SLCPs include soot (also known as black carbon) and methane gas. These contaminants are major contributors to climate change, degrade air quality and have serious impacts on food security and human health. Effectively reducing them could significantly improve air quality and advance the fight against climate change in the short-term. Through our experience in international law, we’re seeking ways to regulate these short-lived pollutants across Latin America. Because having clean air to breath is one of life’s basic needs. Clean air shouldn’t be a luxury.  

We have to talk about the bees

When I was three years old, I threw rocks at a hive until I was attacked by an enraged swarm of bees. It was one of my first memories and, despite the pain it caused me, I harbor no resentment toward bees, wasps, or bumblebees. It was my fault, my mother told me. They were just defending themselves. She taught me about their stingers, the queen bee, and the honey the produce. She told me how they feed on pollen and flower nectar, something a three-year-old can understand. With time, I learned that plants like coffee, apples, and cotton all rely on pollination by bees to reproduce. Twenty-five years ago, the bees didn’t seem to be in any danger — they were everywhere in my small town in the state of Veracruz, Mexico. Later, I moved to Mexico City, where people “reported” bees to the Civil Protection agency, and firefighters were called in to kill them. To prevent attacks, the city made life difficult for bees: in city parks, trees and flowers were sprayed with chemicals and pesticides, and water sources were dried up. That tactic has spread to agricultural fields around the world. Today, it is rare to see bees, bumblebees, or wasps flying around those spaces. The problem with pesticides The problem with bees became visible around 2006, when beekeepers and farmers in the United States reported losing 70 percent of their bee colonies during one winter season. Until that point, keepers would lose around 15 percent of their colonies during the coldest months. But the decline of bee populations wasn’t isolated that season. Various European nations also began reporting losses in the early 2000’s. According to a European Union report published in 2014, the region loses a third of its bee population every year. Unfortunately, little data exists for Latin America and efforts to monitor bee populations have only just begun. We know that beekeepers in Mexico have reported losses of between 30 and 80 percent of their colonies. Chile reportedly loses nearly half its colonies in the winter, a percentage that was previously between 15 and 20 percent. The Abejas Vivas (Living Bees) collective has recorded the disappearance of more than 10,000 hives in Colombia, and some regions of Argentina have reported the sudden death of nearly 90 percent of their hives. Why should we care? Seventy-five percent of our food production relies on pollinators—vertebrates and invertebrates alike—including bees. The UN Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) asked countries to adopt policies and food systems that are more favorable to pollinators. “We cannot continue focusing on growing our food production with processes based on the general use of pesticides and chemical products that threaten our crops and our pollinators,” said FAO Director José Graziano da Silvo. The sudden mass death of bees—known as Colony Collapse Disorder—is caused by a number of factors: an increasingly extreme and unstable global climate, the increased use of pesticides and fungicides, parasites like the varroa destructor (a mite that attacks bee hives), and the deterioration of ecosystems that bees rely on for food. Each of these factors creates stress for the bees. According to an article in Science, “exposure to chemicals and a lack of food can endanger bees’ immune systems, making them more susceptible to parasites.” Taking steps to protect bees In April, the European Union banned three neonicotinoide insecticides, which are commonly used for producing corn, cotton, and sunflowers. These pesticides are a risk to not just honeybees, but also to wild bees, other insects, and some larger animals. Of course the ban—a decision passed down by the European Food Safety Authority—has not made pesticide companies happy, but the European Union’s objective is critical: to guarantee food production in its member nations. In the United States, despite the fact that the Environmental Protection Agency has called for the protection of pollinators, the current government reversed the ban on certain insecticides in natural protected areas, a policy enacted by the previous administration. While scientists are working to better understand Colony Collapse Disorder, bees continue to die, putting our food security at greater risk. Many studies are focused on domesticated honeybees, whose columns are the easiest to count. But there exist around 20,000 species of pollinators—including wild bees, wasps, bumblebees, other insects, and vertebrates like birds and bats. There are few studies on the impacts of pesticides, changes in soil makeup, and climate variations on wild pollinating species, but these species are also likely to be at risk. Some plants depend exclusively on certain wild pollinators—plants like orchids, cacao (chocolate), coffee, and agave (tequila). That’s why we have to talk about the bees, and the other animals that help provide us with fruits, vegetables, and grains. Losing these species endangers the livelihoods of small-scale food producers, and a drop in food production would disproportionately affect society’s most vulnerable populations. What can we do? Twenty-five years ago, my mother planted flowers and told me that they would attract bees, which would ensure there would always be more flowers. Beyond the simple but meaningful act of sowing native flowers for local pollinators, we must demand that our food production systems respect the natural environment they depend on. And finally, it’s important to note that although bee deaths are caused by a number of different factors, human activity is the one thing they all have in common.     

Offering communities scientific support to stop mining’s damages

The Colombian town that’s taking on coal mining

“To leave for good is painful,” Flower Aria Rivera, 58, said with nostalgia. He doesn’t want to leave his land, his home. Doing so would mean leaving behind his identity, his story. Flower is from Boquerón, Colombia, a town of nearly 900 residents in the northwest department of Cesar. His ancestors, directly descended from Africans, were among the first inhabitants of his small town and many others in the region. They lived from raising cattle and growing rice. But that simple life is no more. The once-fertile soils of Boquerón have for more than 30 years been overtaken by large-scale coal mining operations. Since the corporations arrived, the town has been absorbed by coal and the many damages it leaves behind—like unhealthy levels of air pollution, and the depletion of water from rivers and other natural sources. The contamination had gotten so bad that, in 2010, the government ordered the mining company to relocate Boquerón’s residents. Eight years later, and that still hasn’t happened. On the contrary, new families have been arriving to Boquerón in search of the compensation that will surely be distributed when relocation finally does occur. “We want the mines to move, we want them to stop polluting our town,” said Flower, one of the most respected of the community, which has peacefully resisted despite the outbreak of skin and respiratory diseases. Flower is not a conventional leader. He speaks softly, while smiling. His deep black skin contrasts with his pure white hair. He’s sweet and calm and, above all, full of faith and hope. I met him two months ago when he participated with other leaders in a public forum co-organized by AIDA, Tierra Digna, CENSAT Agua Viva, University of Magdalena, the Environmental Justice Network of Colombia, and the Rosa Luxembourg Foundation. There, participants discussed what’s needed to enable Colombia to move its economy away from coal exploitation and toward alternative energies—those that respect the both climate and communities. “Coal has left us with nothing, only sadness,” Flower lamented. Colombia is the fourth largest coal exporter in the world. As such, the government has the ethical and moral obligation to reduce its carbon emissions, which have contributed to exacerbating the climate crisis. At AIDA, we believe in a clean energy future, and our work will continue to support the move towards a coal-free Latin America.   To close, I’d like to share a poem Flower wrote. In it, he expresses longing and love for his land, and his fear of the “damned black stone.”   A mi Boquerón   Boquerón del alma mía Terruño de mis entrañas Estoy perdiendo mi alegría Mis costumbres y mis esperanzas   Camino lento y con tristeza Con solo pensar en tu partida Historia mía, historia tuya Es como un llanto en noche buena   Quisiera morirme en tus recuerdos Donde viví muchas nostalgias De amores y vivencias de este mundo Cómo te llevo Boquerón en el alma   Voces de recuerdos se escuchan a lo lejos De un niño y un viejo Como añorando el pasado De Boquerón y sus hermosos tiempos   Partir sin regreso es doloroso Y un diciembre sin ti es morir Como regresar después a pajuil Cuando mis zapatos se han roto   Ya inerme camina un boqueronero Y la historia del tucuy, el manantial y la lomita está muriendo Hoy hasta el mismo cielo está llorando En gotas de agua convertidas en desespero   Quisiera regresar a las faldas de mi madre Como cuando niño me escondía debajo de ella Escucho a lo lejos la voz del patriarca Rivera Ángel Que desde su tumba como deseando una esperanza   Adiós diablito caño, palma y paralú donde di mi grito de libertad y olvidé mi esclavitud de mi raza palenquera y también de chambacú y olvidé por mis ancestros lo juro por ese cielo azul   Maldita piedra negra Que hizo cambiar mi historia Un humilde pueblo llora La funesta partida de toda una vida  

Understanding the true costs of mining in Latin America

Would you accept a business deal that offered you limited profits and infinite expenses? In Latin America, mining is strongly promoted as a source economic advancement. Governments tout extraction as a source of employment and funding for new hospitals, schools, roads and other infrastructure. Up to that point, it sounds like good business. But that’s only half of the story. What they don’t tell you about—in press releases or Environmental Impact Studies—is all of mining’s downsides, including impacts in perpetuity, environmental damage that persists for centuries or even millennia. Among mining’s many damages—rarely mentioned to the communities living alongside the projects—two stand out: Severe landscape modifications: for example, the excavation of an open-pit mine on a mountain or the filling of a valley with mining waste.   Contamination of water sources: for example, acid generation and the release of toxic metals into reach rivers, streams and other water sources; or the increase of nitrates and ammonia derived from explosives. In countries like the United States, damages are discussed in environmental assessment processes and legislation exists on both assessment and mitigation mechanisms. In Latin America, promoters of large mining projects often fail to understand that the long-term costs of these mega-projects far outweigh their benefits, and extend far beyond the mine’s active life cycle. After their closure and abandonment, open-pit mines need constant maintenance to minimize the risk of collapse (which never disappears). Water sources must be continuously monitored and treated to avoid toxic contamination. Who will pay for mining’s damages? It’s often difficult to know who must assume mining’s costs because it depends on several different elements: legal frameworks, institutional strength, and social factors. In many countries, governments require mining companies to build and install monitoring and remediation systems (wells, water treatment plants and drains, for example). In other cases, they are asked to pay for the operating costs of these systems for a period of time. The most demanding countries request remediation insurance (i.e. Reclamation Bonds), as well as a contribution to financial funds whose yields will be destined for such measures. This is the case of the Superfund, which manages the remediation of approximately 1,341 industrial sites across the United States. But even so, these policies often underestimate long-term costs, leaving tax papers to cover the rest of the expense. According to the Center for Science in Public Participation, the government would have to pay between $3.8 and $20 billion dollars to remediate the damages of metal mines in the western United States. In other countries, environmental waste from mining doesn’t receive much attention. In Canada—often cited as an example to follow by governments of the region—the Tulsequah Chief mine in British Columbia has been releasing untreated acidic waters since 1957. Mining in Latin America Although many Latin American nations have regulations related to mining, most lack specific laws establishing standardized procedures for monitoring and repairing its damages. Some nations, like Bolivia and Colombia, even lack a legal definition for Mining Environmental Liability or debt for environmental damage. Faced with weak regulation, the closure of a mine is accompanied by isolated and ineffective actions—like simply planting greenery in the affected area. Since it’s not clear who should be held responsible, the few monitoring and remediation actions that exist often end up being abandoned. Another important factor in the region is that environmental damage comes not just from legal mining, but also from illegal and—in the case of Colombia, where mining’s profits are being used to fuel conflict—even criminal mining activities. In Chile, environmental deterioration is largely the product of legal metal mines that have been abandoned. In Bolivia it is most often the result of artisanal mining and cooperatives. In Colombia, illegal and small-scale mining spills mercury into the rivers. In Peru, gold mining causes serious damage to human health and the environment. Throughout Latin America, mining’s historical damages can be found in mineral deposits that date from the colonial age… yet our resources continue to be exploited. Why prevention is key The permanent scars mining leaves behind require constant attention and a level of financing that is impossible to guarantee over time. And given their severity, it’s only possible to partially mitigate, not completely remediate, the most serious damages. That’s why we’re promoting prevention, rather than remediation. Hand-in-hand with local organizations and communities, we’re working to ensure that mining projects are subject to adequate evaluation processes before they’re authorized, and that the risks they imply for communities and the environment are well understood. We advocate for evaluation based on the best available scientific information; we ask that it contemplate alternatives and be carried out independently to guarantee objective results. If the analysis finds that a project will generate perpetual damages that cannot be adequately managed, it must be rejected. We want decision-makers to understand: hard rock mining is not always good business and it always causes environmental harm. We’ll continue working to ensure governments across Latin America understand that fact.